Soulmates
by WolfessLizi
Summary: Cobra didn't believe in soulmates. The mere statistical probability of ever meeting that one person that was supposedly made for you ranged from depressingly minuscule to straight out impossible. The likelihood of watching someone you care about die is much higher. (Oneshot!)


Cobra didn't believe in soulmates.

Everyone he had ever spent more than five minutes around knew this. His scoffs and stinging barbs were thrown with blatant disregard at anyone stupid enough to talk about the mere concept in his presence. He never pretended that the idea was anything but laughable to him. He wasn't shy about his opinion, even when it led to getting the shit beaten out of him as a child.

The mere statistical probability of ever meeting that one person that was supposedly made for you ranged from depressingly minuscule to straight out fucking impossible, and he loved rubbing it into people's face.

The likelihood of watching someone you care about die is much higher.

So, when he could even hear the pathetic pining of the souls around him on the battlefield, Cobra couldn't help but snicker. It was pathetic. Focusing so much on a person, being willing to throw everything away just to see and protect them... he couldn't wrap his mind around it. The entire premise was bullshit. Why the hell should he go out of his way for someone else when no one had ever done it for him?

To Cobra, having a "soul-mate" just meant having more to lose. He'd lost too much already to ever let himself depend on another person like that again. He had become too cold, too self-sufficient. It wasn't in him to even acknowledge the possibility that he could ever want to have that kind of closeness with a person.

The "leader" of his rag-tag group couldn't stop thinking of shining hair the vibrant color of blood, the stuttering, warbling bass notes of a cello speeding up with panic when Scarlet was nowhere to be seen. Cobra glanced over at Jellal, smirking as his eyes desperately darted back and forth between the clock burned onto his arm. The fool wanted reassurance that he still had time. The substantial number reflected slowed the crescendo only slightly. At least he was conscious enough of the fact that his supposed fate could change at any moment. Cobra had seen his face before when the numbers starting spinning during one of Erza's particularly dangerous battles.

He had teased Jellal for months afterward.

Cobra never bought into the idea that he needed someone else to complete him. He didn't feel that overwhelming urge to find and be with another person, like the people around him seemed to. For all his immense intelligence, he had no idea what was so appealing about being tied to some random person that he probably would never give two shits about.

Jellal's soul finally reached such a turbulent ferocity that he took off through the clashing bodies to hunt down his supposed soulmate. Cobra just rolled his eyes and tore into the mage that tried to follow. He was getting tired of listening to the bellow of Jellal's soul, and the only way it would quiet the fuck down was if he found that trigger-happy redhead.

While being able to tune into his teammates was convenient to garner their locations, it had its downsides. He was so attuned to the different pitches, tones, and tunes that the slightest changes could peak his interest. The unexpected, catastrophic bellowing of trumpets full of indignant rage that blasted from the blue-hair man was enough to draw Cobra's attention away from the mage in front of him.

That split second, typically harmless lapse, was all it took for his opponent to plunge an arm through Cobra's chest.

Cobra grimaced, nails shooting up to dig into the flesh impaling his torso. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as his poisonous talons began to melt the skin in his hands. The other mage fell to the ground a few seconds later. Cobra gave a pained smirk at the blood-curdling, dying shrieks exploding from the other man, and began slowly began to make his way to the edge of the battlefield.

It was getting harder for him to breathe. He coughed slightly, more of his own blood coating his tongue as he let his toxins float through the air uncontrolled. More and more of the enemy was falling. The battle would be over soon, and if he didn't find that Sky Dragon twerp soon he was going to be one of the casualties.

His eye was refusing to focus now. A slew of curses slipped through his lips as he tripped over a corpse. The jolt sent such a shock of pain through him he almost sank to the ground right then.

Cobra focused his hearing. Cello was decrescendoing, satisfied humming vibrations echoing through Jellal's soul. He could just barely hear Titania's answering war drums beginning to simmer into steady thrums before the sounds started to blend together in Cobra's already hazy mind. In his rapidly deteriorating state, it took a minute for Cobra to realize what that meant.

The bastard must've finally broke and confessed.

When he finally hit the ground, Cobra faintly heard someone calling for him.

He knew that voice.

That smooth, silky, God-forsaken voice.

Now it was choked, begging for him to open his eye. When had he closed it? It was screaming, yelling for Wendy like she was the last fading shred of hope. He already knew he was dying, and he was well aware that Wendy wouldn't be able to get to him fast enough. The voice refused to acknowledge it outwardly even when the accompanying soul began its panicked mourning. Calm, regal violin stuttered into silence, and then erupted into a high-pitched squeal with such intensity it hurt him to listen to.

What he couldn't understand was why its owner was so invested in his well-being. That soul sure as hell didn't belong to any of his teammates. He tried to open his eye, wanting to glare at the person who was currently splitting his ears instead of letting him pass on peacefully. His unfocused gaze saw dirty, blonde hair hanging over his face. Red was everywhere. All over her pale skin, down her ripped skirt, splashed across her cheek... Cobra instantly knew it was his, even if he hadn't felt her hands pressing down on his chest until now.

He tried to open his mouth to tell her to fuck off, to get the hell away from him and cling to Salamander, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. All he could manage was one last, wet breath, and the what resembled the tiniest of smiles.

A small part of his own long-neglected soul wondered how it would've felt to be connected to one like hers as it all faded to black.


End file.
